


the dormant fire

by Smilla



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 2012, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilla/pseuds/Smilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared can’t stop thinking how different this night is already, how each touch means so much more and how much it thrills him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the dormant fire

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted [here](http://smilla02.livejournal.com/246058.html).]

He wakes up sweaty and needing to piss. His left arm’s asleep and stiff under the weight of Jared’s torso, his back too warm and sticky against Jeff’s chest. He keeps his eyes closed for a while, listening to their breathing. Jared’s is fast, even in sleep, like not even oblivion can stop him from trying to take on the whole world with sheer physical force. The thought makes Jensen smile, and he curls his right hand around the jut of Jared’s hip, pressing on the thin skin above the bone lightly so he doesn’t wake him up. 

Jeff chooses that moment to tighten his hold around Jensen’s torso, and Jensen thinks that it’s impossible, but it’s like Jeff _knows_ , even asleep, when Jensen’s thoughts are wandering somewhere else, to someone else. Jeff settles almost immediately, lips flush against Jensen’s neck and breathing in and out with an even rhythm that matches the one of his heartbeat.

When Jensen opens his eyes, the room’s still dark, only a hint of light clearing the perfect square of the window, beyond the curtains. For a while, he listens to the birds singing, to the noises of early-risers coming from down his street: a car door closes, an engine revs. He snaps his eyes open when he’s on the verge of falling asleep again and shifts from under Jared’s body trying to wriggle his arm when it starts prickling. He doesn’t want them to wake up, and he’s good right now, right where he wanted to be, encased between Jared and Jeff and their long bodies pressed on each side and with too little space to even expand his chest when he takes in a deep breath. And yet, there’s a part of him that wants out of this bed now, wants to see Jared and Jeff sprawled in his bed, naked and sharing the same space because of him.

With some careful moves and a few whispered, comforting words, Jensen’s able to leave the bed without waking either Jared or Jeff. His body makes itself felt as soon as he’s standing, sore ass and muscles pulling where he’s stretched them too much. He shuffles his feet a bit at first, balance coming hard with the flood of blood rushing through his ears, but a hand against the wall is enough to keep him upright until his balance comes back. He avoids looking back to the bed, afraid he’ll jump straight back into it at the mere sight of Jared and Jeff’s naked bodies. He needs a few minutes alone.

He pads to the bathroom, takes a piss, shivers when the simple touch of his hand on his cock is too raw and too much.

When he washes his hand, his reflection in the mirror is but a grey blur in the dimmer light of the bathroom, but he knows he’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk, and he knows his cheeks are flushing red to match the warmth that’s spreading through his chest. Without thinking, his fingers go to his neck, find a spot that’s warmer than the rest of his skin. He presses on it, his soft dick twitching valiantly and willingly between his legs. He can’t remember who put that bruise there, if it was Jeff’s teeth that bit or Jared’s lips that soothed, and he’s fucking all right with it.

*

Jared’s got a routine whenever he drops by at Jensen’s. He’ll ring twice and make a funny face at the tiny camera until Jensen’s voice comes over the intercom. Then he’ll get inside and he’ll call the elevator, half-hard already from the sound of Jensen’s rough voice, and he will curse the entire length of the ride, because the elevator at Jensen’s place is an old piece of shit from the turn of the last century that clangs loudly and crawls slowly up to the fifth floor to Jensen’s apartment. 

This time, he tries playing it cool, tries making a funny face at the camera, even knowing it’s looks more like a grimace. But once in the hallway, he ignores the elevator for the stairs, counting each step under his breath while sweat breaks out between his shoulders.

At Jensen’s door, he stops, hand curled in a fist at his side and ready to knock. Music is coming from the other side, something with a slow bass that Jared recognizes but can’t name. The music stops, leaving behind a thick silence, and Jared leans against the wood, straining to hear what’s going on. When the door opens he jumps back, plants a smile on his face because that’s what he usually does; but the sight of Jensen, barefoot and wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a red t-shirt, is enough to dry Jared’s throat.

Jared clears his throat, says, “Hey.” Then he tries to master his smile because it’s getting hard holding it.

Jensen opens the door wide and takes a step back, says nothing, stands there, tall and gorgeous. There’s something deliberate in Jensen’s economy of movement, in the way he stares at Jared’s body, head to toe, something different that’s jumbling Jared’s ability to read his body language. Jared gets inside, tries not to stare at the shift of muscles under the thin t-shirt, tries to will his erection down, tries not to slam Jensen’s body against the door like he would have done any other time because there are rules tonight he’s agreed to.

When Jared steps inside, he feels like he’s sealed a deal. It relaxes him somehow, or maybe it’s the familiarity of Jensen’s apartment, _its emptiness_. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he’d been hoping to be here first. He sits on the couch without his usual abandon and playfulness. 

Jensen gives him a soft smile like he fucking gets it and Jared wants to kiss him right then. 

“Want a beer?” Jensen asks; he doesn’t wait for Jared’s answer, just turns toward the kitchen on the tail of his question. Jared leans back against the couch and takes the chance to stare. Jensen’s gait is loose and relaxed, a bit of heaviness to it like he gets after one of their long work-out sessions. 

Jensen gets back soon enough, two long-necks in one hand, already uncapped and glazed with frost. 

Jared takes one, fingers lingering a moment too long when he brushes Jensen’s, then Jensen’s sitting beside him, only a sliver of space between them. Finally Jensen’s close enough Jared sees the tension in the way he clenches his bottle, the slight tremor on his lips when he takes a small sip of beer. 

Jared’s surprised. He’s spent the afternoon talking himself into finding an excuse not to come, his pride only winning in the end because he’d already accepted, foolishly maybe, but he’d wanted to do this for Jensen, who rarely asks for anything outright. It was stupid maybe, now that he knows better, but he’d never thought Jensen would have doubts.

Jensen’s masked vulnerability is confusing, it’s arousing, and he puts the beer on the floor, turns around, finds Jensen’s body already canted his way, lips wet and red and jutted out, an open invitation. There’s something flickering in Jensen’s eyes right before Jared eats the narrow space between them, but Jared can’t focus on it, doesn’t want to, lost in the first taste of Jensen’s lips. By mutual and silent agreement, they keep it dry: no tongue, no teeth, only the brush of their mouths, small bites and hands sneaking under each other’s shirts, tentative like it’s the first time, as if they don’t know each other’s bodies as well as they do. 

Jensen’s skin is cool, soap-scented, and familiar, but not the way he’s used to, and Jared can’t stop thinking how different this night is already, how each touch means so much more and how much it thrills him. 

When Jensen draws back with a last nip at Jared’s lips and something that feels suspiciously like a caress on his left side, Jared stays like that, breathing hard and _wanting_ so many things all at once, and aching, hard, inside his jeans. 

“The door,” Jensen says, eyes closed.

It takes Jared a moment too long to understand, another long moment to gets exactly what that means.

*

Jeff knows Jared’s already arrived the moment Jensen opens his door. There’s no other way to take Jensen’s kiss-swollen lips. Even without that, his rumpled t-shirt gives them away. He raises an eyebrow, smiles when Jensen mirrors him, cocky and tempting like he was born for it. The little shit.

It’s not for Jared’s benefit that he twists their bodies when he bends to kiss Jensen… or maybe only a bit because he likes egging Jared on whenever Jensen’s concerned, likes how his nostrils flare, back snapping straight, ready to take on Jeff the hard way, years of friendship be damned.

Jensen’s definitely not innocent in all of this, not the way he moans and flushes his body against Jeff’s, and Jeff’s forced to remember that this was all Jensen’s idea, details carefully planned. Jensen can be a controlling bastard when he puts his mind to it. Jensen’s lips taste of beer, taste of soap, taste of something completely new that Jeff categorizes and files away as Jared. The thought sends a thrilling message straight to his dick, and he licks Jensen’s mouth to remember the taste or to wipe it away, he’s not sure yet.

It’s Jensen who decides when the field’s even, and Jeff lets him go without a fuss when Jensen draws back. The door closes with a soft click behind him. 

Jared’s standing in the middle of the room, eyes blown wide, anger and arousal in each line of his long body. It’s a nice body, Jeff’s aware of it, and yet it’s never come to that between them, though not for lack of opportunity or taste. He likes Jared well enough, likes his funny pranks and his inappropriate humor, his sharp mind. He likes how Jared gets with Jensen, too, curbing his enthusiasm to reveal a more profound side that only Jensen is able to draw to the surface.

“Well, I see you already broke into the beverages,” Jeff says, meeting Jared’s hostile stare head on. He steps inside, helps himself to what he believes is Jensen's beer, sitting forgotten and spreading a wet circle on the coffee table. The bitter taste is enough to clear his muddled thoughts and he shakes his head, smiles a too wide smile he aims openly at Jared, then he jumps when Jensen punches him lightly on the arm.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Jensen says.

Jeff’s not, and he doesn’t want to be, but there are no rules tonight he can abide to, the playing field mined with too many variables. Jeff’s afraid he’ll lose sight of something important. He’s accepted this on the power of Jensen’s request alone, unable to deny it, to deny _Jensen_ , but now he’s wondering what exactly he’s rushing toward. 

If he’s honest, he has a fear deep down that after tonight each of them will be fundamentally changed. He can only hope Jensen knows what he’s doing.

It looks like he does when Jensen steps in between the two of them, straight in the middle, shoulders pushed back, the outline of his body clear under the faded shirt and the thin sweatpants. The symbolism is clear, the air fucking charged with it and heavy. Jeff has little time to think about it because Jared makes the first move: two long steps and he’s twisting Jensen’s body and claiming his mouth with open lips and obscene, wet noises. Jared’s hands are huge, span the width of Jensen’s back, curling around the fabric until Jensen’s t-shirt reveals the dip at the base of his spine. There’s strength in Jared’s embrace, judging by the way the muscles on his forearms flex. 

Jeff’s hesitation lasts only a second, him wanting in on it with a force that he had not expected. Jared opens his eyes when he feels Jeff against his hands, a good enough distraction that allows Jeff to sneak his hands into the narrow space between Jensen and Jared. Jensen’s abs clench beneath Jeff’s hands when he claims the lower part of Jensen's body, fingers working slowly beneath his sweatpants to hot skin, to the coarse feel of his pubic hair. His knuckles brush the tip of Jensen’s cock and he skims Jared’s erection with enough intention that neither Jared nor Jensen can mistake him.

Jensen shivers when Jeff pushes his own hard dick into the crease of Jensen’s ass. Jeff closes his eyes and inhales the smell of Jensen’s neck, tastes the vibration of a long moan with his lips, the tendons tensing when Jared breaks their kiss and Jensen lets his head fall backward against Jeff's shoulder. He can see it, _them_ , in his mind: Jensen caught in between pushing back and forward and already losing it, the way his body sags and then tenses again, trying to stay upright. 

It takes Jeff a moment to understand what’s happening, how fast Jared’s setting the pace. It’s worrying to lose it so suddenly, feeling so dizzy with it. Jensen’s t-shirt is gone, his skin hot even through the layer of Jeff’s shirt; Jeff skims the deep furrow of Jensen’s spine, loves the perfect arc of his back when Jared attacks Jensen’s chest and, Jeff suspects, his nipples.

Jeff lowers Jensen’s sweatpants, and now Jensen's almost naked, only his bare feet tangled in the fabric of his pants; it makes Jeff feel terribly overdressed, in charge too, imagining the burn of his stiff jeans on the delicate skin of Jensen’s ass. Jeff stops Jensen’s failed attempts at getting rid of his sweatpants with a slow caress on the inside of his legs, follows it with a sharp tug at his dick, then slowly threads his nails on the entire length, once, twice, lingering on the skin at the base. The second time he’s rougher, enjoying and Jensen’s thrashing and whispered _fuck_. He hadn’t meant to make Jensen come so soon, but when Jensen freezes right before he spills, Jeff can’t help the elation, can’t help meeting Jared’s eyes above Jensen’s back. 

Jared’s holding on to Jensen’s hip, the other hand flat against Jensen’s nipple and his heart, and Jared’s lips are red and shiny with spit, long hair curling around his face, wet with sweat. He stares back at Jeff until Jensen rides off his orgasm and there’s something in his look that’s half-hostile, half-awed. He murmurs low in Jensen’s ear when Jensen’s done, and Jeff realizes then and there that if this were a game he wouldn’t know who had scored.

*

It’s like falling over a cliff. Jared has never been so hard, and if he has he can’t remember right now. Jensen’s pliable and loose when he falls into his bed, legs over the edge and head thrown back and eyes half-closed. There’s a trail of clothes behind them, evidence of their urgency. Before, while Jared was trying to take off his boots with uncoordinated fingers, he’d chanced a glance at Jeff and Jared had seen his pained flinch when he was taking off his jeans. He’d looked back immediately, feeling warmth spread on his cheeks, surprised by his wanting and how pervasive it was.

It’s not a race, but Jared can’t help feeling like he’s winning when he’s naked and covering Jensen’s body first, hot shock of skin on skin always too much to take at first. He nests his dick in the groove of Jensen’s hip, pressing it and looking for some kind of relief that won’t be nearly enough. The friction is delicious, though, Jensen’s skin too warm and too sensitive right after his orgasm. Jensen flinches when Jared licks a path from the base of his neck to his left nipple, then trashes when Jared scratches his sides. Jared does it again, then another time, looking for new spots that make Jensen’s soft dick twitch and grow, following his hands with tongue and teeth so that half of Jensen’s side is covered in red fingerprints and humid with spit.

A strangled moan distracts him; he looks up, suddenly mesmerized by the sight of Jeff’s hand around Jensen’s neck, drawing it back to a sharp angle while they kiss. Jeff’s kneeling by Jensen’s head, his skin a tone darker than Jensen’s, and he’s tanned and strong when he lifts Jensen so he’s half-sitting and Jeff can find a better angle for their kiss. Jared has to press at the base of his dick so he won’t come untouched. He’s pretty sure he makes a noise, though, because they both turn, Jeff with a smirk and Jensen with such want Jared’s ready to give him whatever he asks for.

Jared’s deliberate when he takes hold of Jensen’s dick, eyes never leaving theirs; he loves how Jensen spreads his legs just so and the muscles on his belly cave in with tension when Jared swallows him whole. There’s no finesse in it. Jared’s too forceful, uses too much teeth and presses at the base too hard, but Jensen seems to like it, and there’s nothing better than feeling the weight of Jensen’s dick grow in his mouth. He releases Jensen with a delicious sounding pop, leaves him hard and flushed red. 

On the other side, Jeff nudges Jensen’s mouth with the tip of his cock, letting Jensen lick and nip at it without going all the way in. There’s pre-come smeared over Jensen’s lips, which he licks away before he goes back to teasing Jeff’s dick with his tongue, small licks that must drive Jeff crazy. Jared has to stand up himself so he doesn’t come from the sight alone when Jeff finally thrusts all the way in, a single shove that stretches Jensen’s lips tight.

Jensen’s eyes are closed, deep furrow between his eyebrows and throat working around the length of Jeff, and Jared likes the outside look he’s getting. Jensen’s neck is stretched, welcoming the invasion, tendons standing out when he swallows, the hollow at the base of his throat glinting with sweat in the golden light from the lamp. Jared knows well enough the effect that mouth has on him, and now he can see how much Jensen’s liking it, when his dick curves, long and stiff, and twitches helplessly, begging for friction. On a whim, Jared sucks on his forefinger, makes it wet and slippery, nudges Jensen’s legs apart, loving how easy that is, how ready Jensen is. He pushes it all the way in, mirroring Jeff’s thrusts and whimpering when he finds Jensen already loose and slick with lube. Jensen reacts beautifully, snapping up from the bed, the curve of his back a perfect upward bow that drives Jared’s finger deeper. Jeff’s watching, intent, a hand on the side of Jensen’s face and something that looks like approval on his face.

Jared doesn’t know how he gets it all; it’s almost impossible how clear his senses are when the air’s saturated with so many scents, so hot and thick it clogs Jared’s throat. His skin tingles when a drop of sweat trails between his shoulders all the way down to his ass, where the flutter of muscles around his fingers drives him in and down, wanting to taste Jensen again. A single lick from base to tip, a breath, and Jensen’s coming, painting his navel with long, white stripes.

They don’t give Jensen time to get down from it, he and Jeff moving in newfound synchronicity and crowding him from both sides. Jensen thrashes and flinches, fights their touch, their lips, then leans into them. They hold him down with their bodies, full contact from shoulders to hips to intertwined legs, bearing on him from everywhere, down into the yielding mattress. They touch across Jensen, he and Jeff, a surprise, a revelation. Jeff’s body is hot and the muscles shifting against Jared’s side are the added friction that makes him frantic.

Kissing Jeff across Jensen’s face doesn’t sound like a weird idea right then. He does, falls into Jeff with teeth and tongue, savoring Jeff’s brand new scent, the different texture of Jeff’s lips, the burn Jeff’s beard leaves in its wake.

“Fuck,” Jensen murmurs, awe in his eyes, and something else that Jared still can’t get. They both stop kissing, but it’s Jeff who asks, “How, sweetheart? Tell us.” 

When Jensen answers, “Both of you,” it should come as a surprise, but it doesn’t, as if the night had always been speeding toward this inevitability.

*

Jeff hadn't imagined it like this. He'd seen himself getting to fuck Jensen, doing it first, making a bit of a show for Jared so he'd get those wonderful responses from Jensen as he gets frozen still and tense and lets Jeff decide the pace, the depth, everything. He'd seen Jared there, of course, and maybe he'd hoped for some kind of response from him as well: learning if Jared knows how much Jensen likes to be bitten on the sides of his neck, how he likes his arms held still at his sides while he gets fucked. 

He hadn't imagined this precipice he's falling from. The idea of sharing Jensen with Jared like this sets his blood on fire; he can't think of not doing it now that the option's on the table. It surprises him how this is not just Jensen; it's Jared as well, the intimacy of doing it, pressed together in the same narrow space, Jared's cock alongside his own.

Jared only shows a moment of hesitation in the sharp angles of his face, worry that softens when Jensen nods, reassuring. Jared answers with a nod of his own, and the way he stares at Jeff is like looking in a mirror. This time, when Jeff smiles, it's not to egg him on, there's no trace of provocation in it.

Jeff takes hold of the situation, shifting Jensen's body upward, in the middle of the bed.

"Okay," he whispers in Jensen's ear. "Let me take care of this." He nudges Jensen on his knees, can't help following the line of his spine to his ass. Jensen's loosened himself already, proof that his request is not a spur of the moment decision. He pushes two fingers inside, dragging them back out slowly so he teases the muscles, so Jensen whimpers and Jared, on the other side, leans to swallow the noise inside his mouth. They're beautiful like this, tangled in an embrace, the perfect symmetry of their bodies outlined by the yellow glow of the lamp, hard muscles, and skin shiny with sweat. Jeff's not sure he'll be able to give up this now that he knows.

The thought drives him forward. He lines himself up first, fingers pressed around the base of his cock. He gets in slowly, controlling the pace with his hips, palm flat between Jensen's shoulder blades so he's at the right angle. Once he's seated, he stills, breathes in, then out to stave off his orgasm.

When the impulse to thrust passes, he leans back against the headboard and draws Jensen on his chest; Jared helps from the other side, putting Jensen legs across Jeff's knees so there’s space for him. It's a tight fit for Jared's body, but he gets himself there. His head falls forward, hair obscuring the view of his face, but Jeff feels the first experimental nudge, before he gets bold, less tentative. Jensen's body snaps impossibly tight in Jeff's hold and Jeff pets his sides like he'd calm a pained animal, kisses his cheeks and licks the sweat on his temple. 

He closes his eyes when the blunt head of Jared’s dick gets past the tight muscle, bites his lips when Jared keeps going in, so slowly Jeff thinks he’s going mad. He’s never felt like this; he can barely breathe through the sensation of Jared’s hard length crammed against him on one side and the soft flutter of Jensen’s muscle on the other. And Jensen’s perfect like this, long neck exposed, lips moving frantically like he’s working hard for each mouthful of air, clawing at Jared’s bicep, and digging deep furrows with his fingers that will leave marks.

Jared finally stills. Jensen exhales: a long trembling breath that ends in a soft moan. After a long moment, he relaxes, though his legs are starting to tremble against Jeff’s knees. Jared must have noticed it as well, because he starts kneading his thighs, up and down until Jensen finally sags against Jeff’s chest. 

Jeff’s vision whitens right then, the pressure too hard. He’s aware of everything all at once, his fast breath, and Jared’s, and Jensen’s; the incessant pulsing of Jared’s dick alongside his own, and Jensen’s involuntary clenching that traps them, drives them deeper.

When Jensen moves, it’s by slow increments. First a small shift of his lower back, like he’s testing his range of movement. He stills, panting, before he tries again, and Jeff would like to tell him something, encourage him, but he’s past speech and afraid that even talking will set him off. Jensen’s slow, tentative movements are too much and Jeff knows he’s going to spill right now, the first pressure of his orgasm already numbing his lower back and growing steady until it slams into him from everywhere. It spreads so fast from their joined hips and the pulsing wetness of Jared’s dick, up to his belly and chest and arms, until he’s blind with it.

Eyes closed, he looks for Jared’s hand, meets it over Jensen. They twine their fingers across the helpless twitches of Jensen’s dick, and together they draw another orgasm from Jensen that’s almost dry. 

Afterward, Jared and Jensen fall limp and sated against Jeff. And it doesn’t matter that Jeff’s legs are cramping from the awkward position, or that they’re so crushing him with their combined weight that even drawing enough air is getting hard: he wants them to stay like that forever.

*

The apartment is this side of chilling so early in the morning, the tiles cold under his feet, but Jensen doesn’t care. He goes to the kitchen enjoying the air cooling his naked body. He takes a bottle of water and goes back to his living room. There are signs of the night before all over the place: the two half-filled beers and Jeff’s boots, Jared’s checkered shirt hanging precariously from a chair and his own clothes lying in heap on the carpet. 

The sight’s comforting in ways Jensen cannot elaborate, cannot admit even to himself, so he doesn’t try. He flops onto his reading chair instead, the one in front of the window, where he’ll see dawn breaking in a few minutes. The soft leather yields around his body with familiar creaks and a familiar embrace. Jensen leans down, rummages through the arm pocket for his cigarettes and a lighter.

The first drag of smoke calms him, filling his lungs completely. There’s enough light now he can see the marks of fingertips on the inside of his thighs, faint shapes scattered everywhere, but the afterimage of Jared or Jeff’s hand is so strong he feels the phantom press on his skin. He takes another drag, flicks ash onto the ashtray, and throws the fleece blanket across his legs.

Jared doesn’t like when Jensen smokes. He’s always giving him shit about it during their morning runs, running in circles around Jensen whenever Jensen stops, drenched and out of breath. Jeff just shrugs it off whenever he catches Jensen smoking, sometimes even joins in if he feels like it. They’re so different, Jeff and Jared. Jeff, oak-solid, able to shift Jensen out of one of his moods with a whispered _sweetheart_ and a homemade dinner. Pushing him to overcome his limits, strive for excellence. Jared had won him with his lame jokes, the veiled admiration that made. It had been all too easy getting them, because Jensen had wanted it all: Jeff’s warm eyes, and his laid-back attitude, Jared’s loud exuberance for life, and his easy touches. 

And he’d wanted them both, had wanted them _together_ , so much he scared the shit out of himself. 

He looks outside, past the open curtains and the glass, dragging smoke lazily, now that the first craving has passed, cataloging aches and burns deeply seared into his skin and down to his bones that won’t go away in a few days. He’s crushing the filter of his second cigarette on the ashtray when dawn finally breaks. It’s not a clear sky that the sun finds; clouds heavy with rain are crowding just above the line of the horizon. It will rain later, but for now sunrise spreads, the color sharper against the gray and Jensen’s living room lightens up with soft pink and gold and an illusion of warmth.

Not a mistake, he tells himself when he walks back to his room, he keeps repeating it with each step. The door’s ajar, only a sliver of the inside visible in the dim light: the foot of the bed, dark sheets tangled around Jeff and Jared’s ankles, the coverlet on the floor. Jensen stays on the doorsill, watching. Jared mumbles something, turns, twines his legs around Jeff’s.

Jensen steps inside. There’s no space between them anymore where he can fit, though Jeff and Jared are not exactly hugging, more resting one against the other. He climbs on Jeff’s side, chest to his back soaking the warmth; his right arm’s long enough to rest on Jared’s shoulder. 

No, he decides, it wasn’t a mistake.  
\--


End file.
